


Abstraction

by Naemi



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Drugs, Humor, M/M, Porn, Prostitution, Secrets, Story within a Story, Writing, sex under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: This little story, probably a lit class assignment, promises to be a more interesting read than Darwin's theory of evolution, and so Tony leans back in his chair and continues.ORWhen Tony happens to find one of Tim's stories, he can't not read it, despite knowing better.





	Abstraction

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art for Reverse Bang Story "Abstraction" by Naemi](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580792) by [Banbury](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banbury/pseuds/Banbury). 



> Tony throws open the door to Tim's dorm room and puts on the most apologetic smile he can muster. “Sorry, I'm late …” he starts and then falters completely when he finds himself alone.

“McGee?”

Tilting his head to the side, Tony looks about the room, but the small space is empty.

“Huh. So much for ‘being punctual next time.’” He turns back around, scans the corridor where nothing stirs, and then he enters the room and closes the door behind him with a soft thud. His backpack, slung over one shoulder, starts to slip off as he circles around slowly—as if expecting Tim to hide where there's no hiding space—and he lets the bag slide to the floor.

Tony checks his watch: He's eight minutes and twenty-seven seconds late. Maybe Tim made good on his promise to “abandon ship”—poor Navy kid and his weird Navy lingo—next time Tony fails to take studying seriously, though Tony doesn't deem him the kind of person capable of skipping out on someone. Besides, the tutoring sessions give Tim a bonus with his prof. Not that he needs it, but it's clear he loves being everybody's darling student. Sometimes Tony thinks that's all the life the poor kid's got.

Tim's probably gone to get them a snack or something. He wouldn't have left his room unlocked if he hadn't counted on Tony being on time.

Sighing and scratching his head, Tony approaches Tim's cluttered desk. His eyes scan the topmost papers, and between pages filled with formulas that are all Greek to him and books with titles that make his head swim by just glancing at them, a handwritten note rendered in red ink catches his attention. He picks it up.

_Tony. Had to run an errand. Sorry; it couldn't wait. I'll be back ASAP. Please start working on chapter five, and maybe you can PLEASE try to get a few words for your paper together._

Tony rolls his eyes. “Why can't you just take my money and write that damned paper for me?” he mumbles, but Tim had made his opinion on the matter clear, and if Tony was honest, he'd made a few good points.

Huffing, Tony puts the note back down. He pulls back the desk chair and plops down on it. It gives a low creak as if it’s protesting Tony's weight. The thought makes him snicker. Slowly, he swivels the chair back and forth and tries to reproduce the sound. Voices and laughter reach him from somewhere on this floor, and footsteps pass by outside, but the chair remains quiet.

With a good push, Tony makes the chair swivel around completely. And again. Maybe he should get some pizza while he's waiting; he hates working on an empty stomach, and since he has no intention of studying without Tim anyway, he might as well do something more useful with his time than swivel around on a chair that refuses to make funny sounds after teasing him.

“Yeah, pizza sounds about right.”

He gives a last, hard push that hurls the chair three times around its own axis and almost makes him slide off. The fast movement stirs the papers strewn about the desk and flutters them in disarray.

“Shit.”

McGee is going to lynch him. The kid's all-level proper as can be.

Tony grabs the edge of the desk to pull the chair back close and eyes the mess. Tentatively, he re-arranges five sheets of paper that look like they might belong together, but since he has no clue whatsoever about what all this stuff even _might_ be, he decides for a different tactic. With a swift motion, he sweeps all the sheets together into a single stack. When asked, he can always argue that he needed some desk space to work. Tim will still be pissed, but there's nothing Tony can do at this point.

As he shoves the pile to one side of the desk, his gaze lands on a piece of paper that has fallen to the floor, and he leans down to pick it up.

Instead of an incomprehensible combination of letters, numbers, and arithmetic operators, he finds some very readable, handwritten English.

_June 29,_ the first line says. Scribbled below sit the words _a day to remember/blast from the past/title tba._

“Oh, McGee. Who would've pegged you for a diary guy?” Tony says with a smirk. For a moment he considers reading it, but for once, his decent side wins.

Just as he's about to bury the paper between the others, realization strikes him.

“Wait a minute.” Furrowing his brow, he hesitates, hand in mid-air. “Who the hell writes their diary entries on loose sheets of paper? And titles them, too?”

He looks over his shoulder and strains his ears. No footfall; no one's coming. Then he checks his watch once again. He has no clue when to expect Tim back, and he knows he shouldn't be nosy, but a part of him is still dying to find out what fell into his hands.

“It's not my fault if McGee leaves private stuff lying around,” he mumbles almost defensively, as if it was a valid excuse for spying.

After a last look towards the door, Tony starts reading the words in Tim's neat handwriting.

 

_It was almost morning when the key turning in the lock announced Jim’s return. Tino put on a look of nonchalance, but the worry that he had harbored for the better part of the night hadn't faded._

 

“Tino and Jim? Really, McGee? How disappointingly obvious.” Still, this little story, probably a lit class assignment, promises to be a more interesting read than Darwin's theory of evolution, and so Tony leans back in his chair and continues.

 

_“You waited up?” Jim raised his eyebrows. “Thanks, Daddy. I guess.”_

_“Don't be ridiculous.” Tino pointed his pen at the notepad in front of him. “I was studying.”_

_“For an exam that's weeks away and without ever opening your book? I'm impressed.”_

_Knowing from experience that it wouldn't do any good to voice his concerns, Tino drowned his sigh in his coffee cup. “I get it,” he said after taking a sip of the too cold drink. “I'm annoyingly overprotective. I'm sorry, okay? I just can’t help worrying about your safety.”_

_Jim hummed softly. “You're a good friend.”_

_“Damned right, I am.”_

_“That's why I need you to do me a favor.”_

_“Like what?”_

_“Get back on the job one last time.”_

_Mouth agape, Tino stared at him. “What? No. No way. I’m done with that.”_

_“My regular offered a small fortune to meet you. Just once. Look … It's enough money to start a whole new life. Only the two of us. Like you keep saying.”_

_The clock ticked away sixty seconds of silence. A hundred thoughts flooded Tino's mind at once and made him feel dizzy. When he found his voice, he opted for the one question that burnt him the most._

_“What's the catch?”_

_“There is none. He's just a fan. Said he's got all your movies or something, and it would be an honor if you'd just … be there.” Jim shrugged. “I don't know.”_

_“I'm not … I can't ….”_

_“I told him I probably can't talk you into more than watching. He's fine with that.”_

_And despite knowing better, so was Tino after he learned the kind of money they were talking. At the very least, it would be a definite last job, for both of them. Or so Jim promised._

 

Huffing, Tony turns the page. This is getting both stranger and more intriguing by the sentence.

 

_The man in question introduced himself as Michael. Nothing about his behavior was in any way off-putting, until he offered the boys something that came in a small, unlabeled bottle._

_Tino eyed the transparent liquid suspiciously. “What's that?”_

_“Just a little treat.”_

_“What does it do?”_

_“It's harmless. I give it to Jim all the time.”_

_Ready to flee the apartment and drag Jim along if need be, Tino turned to him. “What does it do?”_

_“It's all right. It's safe. And the effect is pretty amazing, actually.”_

_“Okay.” Tino tried not to roll his eyes. “But what. Does. It._ Do?” __

_“It gets you all fired up. And lowers your inhibitions, maybe.”_

_“And that's it?”_

_Michael made a noncommittal sound while Jim studied the hem of his sleeve and ignored the question completely._

_It was the promise of a brand new start for Jim and himself—and the five thousand dollars prepayment they had received the day before—that made Tino comply, albeit with a heavy sigh and against better judgement._

 

“Oh, come on.” Tony rolls his eyes hard in Tino's stead. He's never done drugs, a little pot on one occasion or two aside, and Tim knows he wouldn't. They talked about it not too long ago. But then again, this is only fiction; it's not about him. At this point, the thought is weirdly comforting because if this were, in fact, a story about Tim and himself, they'd have to have a serious conversation about it.

For now, he brushes the thought aside and scans the last few lines on that page.

 

_The liquid tasted like it smelled: bitter and spicy, like medicine and wild herbs. While Tino still tried to convince himself that this wasn't a terrible decision, Jim curled his fingers around the nape of his neck and pulled him in for an open-mouthed kiss._

 

“Whoa!” Tony grimaces. Against his will, he reads the remaining words—

 

_It was more about stealing the drug from Tino's tongue than anything else, but it was admittedly welcome, for_

 

—and puts down the paper. His eyes dart to and fro. He's still alone and, as far as he can tell, still in the same reality in which he woke up this morning. Which means Tim's … fantasy … is seriously starting to freak him out a little.

On the other hand …

No. Tony shakes his head. He doesn't need to see more. All he needs now is to get out of here and pretend none of this ever happened. And maybe take a long, hot shower to drown the thought of Tim and gay crushes.

He stands, turns away from the desk, then turns back when he realizes he can't let this _thing_ lie around like that. He lifts part of the stack of paper and, as is his goddamned luck, finds himself staring at another page of handwritten story of crazy. On the upper left edge sits a big, encircled number three, and lo and behold:

 

_it hushed Tino's mind, if only for the minute it lasted._

 

Tony watches his hand pick up the paper, feels his ass connect with the chair—it creaks again, the traitor—and he can't deny that no matter how much he hates to acknowledge it, he's too intrigued to let it go.

Besides, it may give him some leverage on Tim, should he ever need it.

 

_When they parted, Jim let Michael feed him a proper dose. He didn't share, and Tino wondered just how addictive the substance might be and how often Jim had done this before._

_For a few long minutes, Tino didn't feel a thing except for some very natural excitement at watching Jim making quite a show of undressing. When the last layer of fabric hit the floor, Jim kneeled down in front of Michael. He trailed his hands up Michael's legs and into his crotch, but when he moved to follow with his mouth, the man yanked his head back. Judged by the hiss Jim gave, the grip in his hair must be on the painful side of strong._

_Tino's protective side stirred immediately, but summoning the ten-thousand-dollar professionalism that was required, he kept still and quiet. He watched Michael pull Jim into his lap by the boy's hair—and that was when the drug kicked in, unexpected and fierce. A tidal wave of hot desire rolled through Tino, electrified every nerve, and manifested in a gasp. Blurred around the edges, his vision zoomed in on the scene before his eyes. Liquid fire outlined Jim, imitated the languid movements of his hips, and crawled along his contours to jump from his lips to Michael's and illuminate him just the same._

_It was quite amazing indeed, but also scary as fuck._

_“I'm …” Tino touched his face and was surprised to find his skin cold instead of sweaty-hot._

_“You'll get used to it,” Michael said with a voice that had an echo to it. “Relax. Watch. Can you do that?”_

_When Tino nodded, the room seemed to nod right back. He squeezed his eyes shut to get rid of the dizziness. As soon as he reopened them, his unfocused gaze searched for Jim, who was kneeling on the floor again and stroking his cock now._

_Tino couldn't possibly not touch him, but as he watched his hand reach out, fingers twitching in anticipation, he was pulled back so suddenly that the world started to blur again. He blinked and found himself mesmerized by a sea of green and gold that he couldn't translate to being eyes looking at him sternly._

_“I thought you didn't want to participate?”_

_“I may have changed my mind.” His own words sounded strangely distorted in Tino's ears._

_“Then wait your turn.”_

_Disappointment became a living creature, tightening Tino's chest and leaving his mouth as a whimper._

 

“Holy bullshit, McGee.” Tony laughs, but he still has to shift; his stupid jeans are a little too tight all of a sudden. Hot damn, he got himself into quite a mess.

He bites his lower lip and casts a glance over his shoulder. No good luck holds out forever, and if he gets caught now, not even his famous DiNozzo charm can help him out of this hole he's digging for himself.

 

_“If you can't restrain yourself, I'm gonna have to do it for you.”_

_“Okay. Understood.”_

_Sinking back against the couch cushions, Tino let the intoxication carry him away. What little part of his mind still managed any rational thought quickly drowned in aching desire as he watched Jim preparing himself for them—for Michael. Being forbidden to touch him bordered on torture, but at least there was no rule that he knew of against jacking off._

_As he was stroking himself with smooth, slow movements that were too lazy to feed his hunger and yet all he could manage, Michael offered him another taste of the drug. Although he meant to decline, he still tilted his head back and opened his mouth in anticipation of more of that strange glow. With a soft moan, Jim begged for a share, but Michael only shook his head._

_“Don't be such a greedy bitch.”_

_“I thought that's what you pay me for.”_

_“You're fucking lucky that we have a guest of honor.”_

_“Or what?” Tino asked in a low voice that came out a little too shaky to be the threat he had aimed for._

_He received no answer other than a soft whimper coming from his friend. Jim lowered his head, and when he looked back up, all traces of sass were gone from his face. He turned around, ass up in obvious invitation, forehead resting on the floor._

_“Why don't you just use your toy?” he all but cooed._

_His tone alone made Tino's cock twitch, although he knew that the words weren't meant for him. He struggled to keep calm, barely managed to bite back a possessive growl as Michael joined Jim on the floor and, without further ado, started to fuck him so hard that Tino thought he might break him. The moans leaving Jim's mouth were tinted with pain. Tino knew he shouldn't find that the least bit arousing—but he did._

 

Tony too should find this a million other things than arousing, but by now, he doesn't even care anymore. It's stupid smut, all right, and gay _Tim and I_ smut at that, but it sure as hell does the trick either way.

Almost frantically, Tony thumbs through the stack of paper in search for the next page. When he finds it, he pulls it out so quickly that a few loose pages of whatever fall to the floor. Ignoring them, he shifts again—“Damn you, McGee!”—and dives right back into the story.

 

_“You know, I always wondered if he could take a fist,” Michael ground out between thrusts. “Like, does he need extra preparation?”_

_Tino shook his head._

_“I can't hear you.”_

_“I don’t know. We don't … We're just friends. We don't talk about business a lot.”_

_“Now that's a surprise.”_

_Before Tino could wrap his mind around Michael's mocking tone, Michael pulled out to come all over Jim's ass. The tang of sex was so heavy in the air that Tino could have sworn to taste it on his tongue._

_To his utter surprise, he said it out loud, and the next moment, he found himself licking a wet stripe down Jim's lower back. He was vaguely aware that he was shoved there, but it didn't matter at all. The only thing of importance was the hot, trembling flesh under his touch. Taking his time to lap up all the come, he barely noticed that Michael fed Jim his longed-for dose of the drug._

_When no hint of the man was left on his friend, Tino flicked his tongue over his well-fucked hole and inside, desperate to claim him any way he could._

 

Tony squeezes his eyes shut and exhales deeply. “Dear Lord, please don't let me rot in hell for this. Thank you; amen.”

He reaches down to give his hard dick a squeeze that's meant to make things better but makes everything worse instead. Torn between the need to take care of the matter and an inexplicable desire to know how the story ends, maybe find out if any of this does connect back to reality, and how, he grits his teeth.

“I'm so fucked.”

 

_“Aren't we all a little needy today?” Michael said._

_Tino shot him a glance; he looked smug and wannabe cool sitting back on the couch with an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and one hand in his crotch. Tino wanted to smack his face. He might even have, if Jim wasn't so receptive to him, if the smell of sex in the room wasn't making his head swim with_ mine, mine, mine!

_“Tell me—I always wondered why you left the business completely. You were so talented. Still are, I see. What made you change your mind?”_

_“Nothing you need to know.”_

_Jim whimpered softly, and Tino trailed his thumb over his hole and watched it pucker under the touch. God, he was so gorgeous it hurt._

_Michael lit his smoke and took a deep drag. “It's him, right? Thought he'd stop for you if you stopped for him?”_

_“God, can we_ not _stop anything right now, please?” Jim emphasized his need by pushing his hips back._

_Tino, as incapable as unwilling of denying Jim, bent back down and licked a long, wet stripe from Jim's balls upward. Michael gave a throaty laugh that sounded as if it was coming from far away, a different realm maybe, or even a different life altogether._

_It was beautiful to watch Jim fall apart. He canted his hips into the touch and bit his moans for more into his bare arm until they turned into desperate whimpers. When he came, Tino's name was on his lips. Just like it should be._

_As Jim rolled around slowly and Tino sat back to draw in his pretty features, still—again—outlined by that ever-present living fire, his fingers brushed against something glass. He picked it up, but it took him a moment to realize that it was the nearly empty bottle of what he secretly called 'the ultimate, evil awesome' by now._

_Smirking, he held it up. “You care for a last fix?” he asked in a voice that didn't sound like him at all; the words themselves felt alien to him._

_Jim only opened his mouth by way of reply._

_Behind them, Michael laughed again, and the raspy sound made Tino turn his head against his will._

_“What's so funny?”_

_“Nothing. It's just …” He nodded towards Jim. “He told me he never let you fuck him. Not once in all this time, even though he knows you want to.”_

_Tino grimaced and opened his mouth to tell Michael to go fuck himself, but the man leaned forward and gave him an almost secretive look, and something in Tino started to quiver with a vague anticipation that made him hold his tongue._

_“He told me why, you know.”_

_“Michael, don't. Please, don't.” Jim sounded weak and almost scared, unlike Tino's ever heard him before, but … Tino_ needed _to know. He'd wanted to know for so long and never had dared to ask for fear of reaching a point of no return._

_In a corner of his mind, he knew it was nothing but the glow of drugs and sex that told him it was okay to cross that line now, but that didn't stop him._

_“Tell me,” he said almost inaudibly._

_His heart somersaulted when_

 

“No. No, no, no, not now! Come on, McGee, where's the next page?” Feverishly, Tony skims through the papers once more. “Can't leave a guy hanging like that.”

“What the hell are you doing, Tony?”

Tony starts so hard that he spills all the papers on the floor. Heart pounding from more than just fright, he practically leaps out of the chair to gather them up. Blushing, he glances down to his crotch and says a silent thank you that his erection hasn’t quite lived through the shock. It would’ve been impossible to explain _that_ to Tim. Not that the rest would be easy.

“Tony?”

“Jesus Christ, McGee, did you mean to kill me?” Tony huffs, then sniffs and turns around. “You brought pizza!” He stacks Tim's papers, all out of any order whatsoever now, back on the desk.

“Yeah, I brought pizza,” Tim says slowly, as if talking to a little kid. “And you did …?”

“Rearrange your papers?”

Eyebrows raised in a suspicious look, Tim sets the pizza atop the mostly uncluttered corner of his desk.

Tony huffs. “Okay, whatever. I need to know: How does it end?”

“What are you talking—”

“The story! What is it Michael knows that Jim's so afraid of Tino knowing?”

Tim’s face turns a garish shade of red. “You were going through my stuff? Tony! I trusted you!”

“Well, it’s not like I went _looking_ for it. It was on your desk!” Tony throws his hands up. “It might as well have said, ‘Tony—read me! I’m a story about _Tim’s big gay crush on you!_ ’”

“I don’t have a crush on you. That’s completely ridiculous.”

“Then how do you explain this?” He picks up the top page, but before he can start reading it out loud, Tim snatches his out of his hands.

“That's not about you, you narcissist.”

“Oh yeah? Tino and Jim? Not about me and you.”

“Jesus Christ, it’s a fucking story, okay? That’s like asking Stephen King if he goes out and murders people just to write about it. If it was about you, it would say Tony Fuckface DiNozzo.”

“Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

Snorting, Tim throws open the pizza box and takes out a slice. Tony notices it’s mushroom and sausage: his favorite. Tim prefers pepperoni. Wisely, Tony keeps this observation to himself.

They eat in silence for several long minutes.

Eventually, Tony can’t help himself.

“So how does it end?”

He’s half-expecting a pizza to the face, but Tim gracefully sets down his crust and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I haven’t decided yet. Probably going to make Tino choke to death on a cock for being such an asshole.”

Tony really does choke on his pizza then. “So it _is_ about—”

“Say it again and you’ll never get your ending.”

“You don’t even know what ending I’m expecting.”

Tim tilts his head to the side. He’s studying Tony. “Just for the record, what you saw is only a small part of a complex, multi-layered—”

“Yeah, yeah, just tell me if Tino gets his man.”

“Maybe later.” Tim stands up and stretches his hands over his head. “I have a date tonight with this guy named Tino from my history class. You can hang out here, if you want. I take it chapter five feels all ignored and lonely still?”

Gobsmacked, Tony watches as Tim leaves the room.

“Damn you, McGee,” he says through gritted teeth, but at the same time, he can’t help a lopsided grin. If that's how Tim wants to play, Tony's game.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the NCIS Reverse Bang 2018 on [NCIS Bang](http://ncis-bang.livejournal.com).
> 
> This fic may not be what one expects when looking at the art, so let me add a few words. The art gave me two different main vibes. One was fun, lighthearted, flirty, and that's incorporated in my frame narrative. The second vibe was a slightly darker, definitely serious one, and I tried to take that feeling to Tim’s story within the story. Lastly, the background image reminded me of a mystery unsolved, so that's what led to the ending(s).
> 
> In other words, I was intrigued and set out to do something … maybe a little abstract ^.^
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful **Moit** , who also made sure all characters were returned unharmed. Special thanks to **Jacie** for making sure I hadn't done something utterly terrible.
> 
> [Visit my LJ-community [Bunny Bash](https://bunnybash.livejournal.com) to leave me a prompt at any time.]
> 
> [Feedback is love.]


End file.
